


What Grew

by niceasspavus



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Backrubs, Barebacking, Beach fic, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Erections, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Romance, Smut, gagging, implied background sesoo, implied xiusuchen, lowkey body worship, lowkey bondage, lowkey cumplay, switchy!jongdae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niceasspavus/pseuds/niceasspavus
Summary: The squad goes to Fiji. A collection of island-themed vignettes cushioning self-indulgent smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings: alcohol use, gambling, implied ed, very lowkey humiliation kink
> 
> Inspired in part by the Dear Happiness photobook. Not beta’d, so corrections and constructive criticism are fine!
> 
> The campfire song is _How My Heart Behaves_ by Feist.

They hit cruising altitude. The lights in the cabin dim. The seatbelt sign goes on. It’s a ten-hour redeye to Fiji. Nine young men and their staff are reclining in first class. Four of them are chatting animatedly.

“Wait, so how do we decide who rooms with who?”

“With _whom_.”

“Congratulations, you lasted five fucking minutes without correcting my grammar.”

“Well,” says Sehun without opening his eyes, “I’ve already dibsed Kyungsoo.”

Baekhyun peeks over the back of his seat and balks. “We’re dibsing things?”

“Wait, when did you dibs Kyungsoo?”

“I dibs Yixing!”

Chanyeol throws his arm around Jongin. “Then I guess it’s you ‘n’ me, buddy.”

“I’m overcome with excitement.”

“God, why are you all being such dicks today?”

“Earplugs,” Sehun says quietly to himself. “ _That’s_ what I forgot to pack.”

“I hate you so much.”

In the rows behind them, Yixing is tapping his fingers to the music from his headphones. Kyungsoo is nibbling on his complementary cookie. Minseok is already twenty minutes into a movie. Jongdae has fallen asleep on Junmyeon, who’s trying to free his numb arm from beneath the former’s sleep-slumped body.

Nine boys. Nine hours and fifty-five minutes to go.

☼☼☼

“Sorry again for drooling on you.”

“It’s okay. Stop making me relive it, Jongdae.”

“Sorry.”

There’s another short flight from Nadi, then another hour in the shuttles that take them through coconut plantations to the jetty, where they board a boat that docks them, finally, at the shore of their island destination.

“It’s beautiful,” Minseok whispers.

It _is_ beautiful. The water is turquoise and sparkling, the sand pale and bright, the sky clear, the air fresh and fragrant. They drag their luggage up a path through the trees to the house. It’s a charming dwelling, colonial architecture situating ostensibly modern fixings. Yixing unlocks the door, and they spill into the entrance. It’s spacious and bright, the tall windows on the beachside letting sun into an open-plan living room, dining area, and kitchen. The decor is simple and colourful.

“Pretty.”

“Wah.”

It’s not quite noon, and they’re all sleepy and disoriented, but Junmyeon refuses to let anyone nap until they’ve explored the house together.

“So,” Jongin ventures cautiously, tensing like a panther about to spring. “How do we choose rooms?”

They bolt.

Sehun claims the sunny turret for himself and Kyungsoo, and Baekhyun declares the loft at the front of the house as his and Yixing’s. Chanyeol and Jongin snag the bedroom closest to the kitchen, leaving the remaining room on the main floor to Minseok, Junmyeon and Jongdae. After the perfunctory whining, bragging, et cetera, the nine of them regroup to inspect the fridge and pantry, which they find to be full to brimming with foodstuffs. They’re informed by a card on the dining table that it will be replenished midweek when the housekeeping staff are in.

“Unlimited food, a private beach, sunshine. For two weeks!”

“Fortnight,” Kyungsoo says in perfect English.

“See if there’s ice cream.”

“There’s ice cream.”

“Oh shiiiiit, this vacation’s gonna be bumpin’.”

“Guys,” Jongdae says suddenly behind them in the hushed, reverent voice of one entering a cathedral. “The bar is stocked.”

☼☼☼

They eat, they nap, they unpack. They nap again, because they have big plans for the evening. Jongdae and Chanyeol prove surprisingly resourceful when it comes to building the fire.

“How do you know how to do this?”

“What, start a fire? Cavemen did it, Baekhyun.”

“I was in the jungle,” Chanyeol adds in his manliest voice.

“I was really hoping we could get through this trip without you mentioning the jungle.”

They haul out chairs and refreshments onto the beach while Jongdae lights the tinder. The telltale clink of bottles indicates that several of them intend to start off their vacation with a bang and a hangover.

Baekhyun likes the fire. “Pretty,” he murmurs. 

“Careful,” Yixing says, pulling Baekhyun away from the flames by the waist of his pants. “You’ll burn yourself.”

“I’m not touching it!”

“Clothes are flammable.”

“Maybe I should take mine off, then.”

“Hair is flammable too.”

“Oh.”

Everyone sips at their drinks, listening to the crackle of the fire and the gentle crash of the waves. Most are too tired to speak, but there’s a contentment in the air, a relief, a quiet optimism for their coming time off.

Chanyeol breaks the silence. “Wanna see something cool?” He tosses a chunk of driftwood into the flames, and it burns lavender and blue. The lights reflect in Kyungsoo’s wide eyes where he’s sitting with his knees to his chest, swaying drunkenly. 

“Ooooh.”

“Pretty, right?”

Baekhyun raises his bottle. “What happens if you put rum on it?”

“NO!”

“Kidding! I was kidding!”

Jongin pulls open the first bag of marshmallows from the little stash they found in the pantry. They never located any roasting forks, but they have a few sticks they collected, then charred, from the nearby brush. The roasting itself turns out to be a little misguided, and a lot messy, but everyone is enjoying themselves. Kyungsoo dips a marshmallow in his drink and stuffs it in his cheeks when he thinks no one’s watching. Baekhyun pokes at his marshmallow, which promptly punctures and oozes over his hand. “Owww,” he whines, sticking out his bottom lip. He licks the goo from his long, singed fingers. 

Yixing watches. “You’re a mess.” Baekhyun grunts through his mouthful of sticky sugar.

What’s missing from their cozy beachfire is music. “Sing for us, Junmyeonnie,” Minseok prompts.

“What? Why me?”

“You have the prettiest voice.”

“Stop. That’s Jongdae.”

“Okay, then he can sing for us.”

“Together!” Baekhyun says.

“Together,” Jongin agrees.

Junmyeon and Jongdae meet eyes. The flames throw Jongdae’s angular features into sharp relief. He would look like a sculpture if not for his sheepish expression. “Hyung’s choice,” he says.

“Okay.” Junmyeon’s lips thin self-consciously. He sets down his drink and clears his throat. “ _What grew, what grew_ ,” he begins melancholically, and the others quiet. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jongdae laugh silently and bow his head.

_What grew and inside who_

_First so simple was the vow_  
_Then the chorus sang about_  
_Your shoulder, the mooring for me_  
_Like water lost in the sea_

_The cold heart will burst if mistrusted first  
And a calm heart will break when given a shake _

_I'm a stem now, pushing the draught aside_  
_Opening up, fanning my yellow eye_  
_On the ferry that's making the waves wave_  
_Illumination, this is how my heart behaves_

Jongdae joins in the second chorus, their harmony ringing out pure and clear across the beach.

_The cold heart will burst if mistrusted first  
And a calm heart will break when given a shake _

Baekhyun shivers. Yixing wraps him up in his sweater.

_The rain, the rain making me cry_  
_Then the wind comes fanning my yellow eye_  
_The waves wave, the waves wave_  
_This is how my heart behaves_

_A cold heart will burst if mistrusted first_  
_And a calm heart will break when given a shake_  
_The cold heart will burst if mistrusted first_  
_And a calm heart will break when given a shake_

_And what grew, what grew  
What grew and inside who_

Their voices still and a breeze flits over the group, tickling Junmyeon’s neck. He feels uncannily joined with his surroundings, part of the air, the sand, the sea, part of every member of their audience. Their bandmates _ooh_ and _ahh_ and applaud appropriately. Junmyeon shares a little smile with Jongdae. He’s part of Jongdae, too.

They scoot closer to the fire and chat until they grow too drunk, too tired, and can’t be bothered to maintain the embers. Returning to the house is a wobbly event.

Chanyeol whispers far too loudly. “Was it just me, or was that song before kind of-” Minseok’s sandal hits him in the side of the head. “Hey!”

“It was a nice song,” Kyungsoo says dreamily, emitting a resounding cackle when he stumbles into a tree. Sehun sighs and steadies him by the arm.

Not bad for their first night of island living.

☼☼☼

The first morning is clear and sunny. One by one the boys wander out of their bedrooms, gratefully pouring cups of coffee, toasting bread, spreading butter. Kyungsoo is the last, bleary-eyed, broody, and glaring at anyone who talks too loud.

Rested and fed, they go exploring the rest of the grounds. Down the path from their accommodations is a swimming pool flanked by the poolhouse, which is a small, brightly painted affair with a kitchenette, a futon, and not much else. Sehun drags one of the beach chairs into the sun, doffs his shirt, and promptly gets down to sunbathing while the others go and see what else they can find. In the shed behind the poolhouse, there is a treasure trove of equipment.

“Surfboards!” Jongdae hefts one. “Hyung, we have to go.”

“I don’t know how to surf,” says Junmyeon.

“I’ll teach you!”

“You know how?”

“Sure. My family used to take us to the winter sea on the south coast. Nothing big, but I learned.”

They also find nets for beach volleyball, rackets for badminton, footballs, rugby balls, some kind of paddles with velcro, a collapsible bike, snorkeling masks, fishing rods, and even a two-person kayak. 

They gradually split off to pursue their preferred activities: swimming in the pool, building sandcastles, jamming on the verandah, tossing a ball around, raiding the pantry. It’s late in the afternoon by the time they regroup to put together a meal under Minseok’s direction. In the evening, they forgo another fire and end up stargazing on the lawn instead. Baekhyun points out a constellation he says looks like a unicorn. Yixing pretends to see it.

Full of laughter, food, and the sunshine from earlier that day, the boys go to bed contented and sleep restfully.

☼☼☼

Though many of them capitalize on their time off to sleep late into the day, others take advantage of their opportunity to be in the sun, at the dock, and in the water. Amidst the splashing and din of laughter, two boys are drying off.

Jongdae stretches back on his towel. “You seem happier lately.”

Junmyeon peers at him over his sunglasses. “Yeah? It’s nice to have a break.”

“Tell me about it. You eating okay and stuff?”

“Mm,” Junmyeon affirms. He tugs playfully at the hem of Jongdae’s shirt. “Stop worrying about me.”

“You like it when I worry.”

He does. “I do not.”

Jongdae laughs up at the cloudless sky. “Fine. Well, you look good, hyung. Healthy, I mean.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Ugh, stop it.That’s not what I said.”

“Uh huh.” A seagull cries. Junmyeon picks at a fingernail. “I’ve been moisturizing.”

“Oh my god, stop.”

Meanwhile, Jongin is trying to dunk Baekhyun in the water. Chanyeol does a cannonball off the dock. “Kids,” Jongdae sighs, toweling off splash from Chanyeol’s landing.

“Pfft. As if you’re not as bad as they are.”

“I am the embodiment of maturity, thank you very much.”

Junmyeon snorts and scoots to the edge of the dock, letting his feet dangle in the cool water. He flexes his toes. He _is_ happier lately. Despite the stress, the sleepless schedules, the drama that always seems to be bubbling in his life, things feel like they’re coming together for once. He shuts his eyes and raises his face to the sun. He’s a lucky man.

Jongdae jostles him from his thoughts. “Hyung, do you have your phone on you?”

“No, wh-”

Jongdae shoves Junmyeon off the dock into the brisk water, cackling with glee.

☼☼☼

It takes a few days for Baekhyun to convince Yixing to haul out the kayak. Resistant as he’s become to Baekhyun’s puppy eyes over the years, he’s only human.

“Oh. Wow. Yikes. What are _those_.”

“Huh? Oh.” Baekhyun holds out his cushioned arms. “They’re my floaties!”

Yixing pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why, though, is my question.”

He waves his arms enthusiastically. “Floaties!”

“Floaties.”

“Floaties!”

“Floaties.”

“Floaties!”

This continues until Yixing silently accepts the floaties (“Floaties!”) and they carry the kayak out onto the beach from the poolhouse shed.

“Your arms are stronger, so you should go in the back,” Baekhyun says pointedly, nestling himself into the first seat.

“Okay. Hold the paddles for a second, Baekhyun-ah.” Yixing heaves the vessel into the water before awkwardly scrambling in himself. They squeal as the kayak rocks precariously.

“Ahhhh. Woo.”

“Aiyooo.”

“Here we go.”

“Give me my paddle, Hyun-ah.”

“Here.”

They row tentatively against the gentle waves that threaten to push them back to shore. Once past the choppier water, Baekhyun gets bored and pulls out his phone to take a picture.

“Baekhyun-ah, it’s going to get wet.”

“I’ll be careful!”

“Where is your paddle?”

“Huh? Oh.” He spins around in his seat. “I must have- ah! There it is.” He points to where it’s bobbing in the water, some ten feet beyond the kayak.

“Baekhyun.”

“I’ll get it. Here.” He wrestles Yixing’s paddle away despite the elder’s squawk of protest and attempts to coax the other one back to the boat. It slips out of his grasp and floats carelessly away, joining the first.

Yixing fixes him with an unblinking stare.

“Oh. Fuck. Sorry.”

“Well, that’s it I guess. This is the end.”

Baekhyun bites his lip, watching the paddles drift further and further away.

“Stranded in the prime of our lives.”

“Are we going to die, hyung?”

“Goodbye, fickle world.”

“At least I have my floaties.”

“So young… so young…”

Meanwhile, Minseok and Sehun are watching from the shore.

“Do you think we should help them?”

“No. More iced tea, hyung?”

☼☼☼

“Psst. Yixing.”

Silence.

“Yixing-hyung.”

Grunt.

“Gege.”

“Mmrrph.”

“Xing-ge.”

“ _What_.”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

“I’m cold.”

“Probably because you left the window open last night.”

“Yixing, I’m cooold.”

“Put on a sweater.”

“Yixiiiiing.”

A loud, exaggerated snore.

“You’re not asleep! Hyuuuung.”

“Fine. Come here.”

“No, you come here.”

“Why do I have to come over there?”

“This bed’s better.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

Baekhyun writhes in his sheets. “ _Yixiiiiing_.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’m coming.” Yixing grumpily ambles into the neighbouring bed. “It’s fucking cold in here.”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

“Ah! Don’t put your feet on me. They’re freezing.”

“How else are they gonna get warm?”

“Tch. Why do I put up with you?”

Baekhyun wiggles against Yixing’s warm body. “You love me.”

“Xiáo ɡuǐ.”

“What’s that mean? Ge? What’s that mean?”

“Fuck, your hands are freezing too! Did you sleep in the fridge?”

“Right next to the milk.”

“Little weirdo. Ugh.”

“Warm,” Baekhyun coos approvingly.

They drift back asleep. Baekhyun wakes up with his face in Yixing’s armpit. It smells like him. Obviously. It’s nice. He shifts, and Yixing whelps.

“Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to tickle you.”

“Good. Because you know what happens when you tickle me.”

Baekhyun wiggles his long fingers. “Is that a challenge?”

“Absolutely n- _augh!_ You’re a dead man!”

The struggle is fierce but short-lived, Yixing’s superior strength winning out against Baekhyun’s speed. Yixing holds him down against the pillows by his wrists.

“You never learn, do you?”

“Owww.”

“What do you say?”

“Sorry.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry and thank-you-oh-benevolent-Yixing-hyung-for-showing-me-mercy.”

“You’re welcome.” Yixing presses Baekhyun’s wrists into the mattress for good measure. He feels a thrill at how pliable the younger boy is beneath him, how soft, how sweet, how angelic he is just in his white t-shirt and boxers. Baekhyun meets his gaze, doe-eyed and flushed pink. Yixing releases him and makes for the en suite, flustered.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. Where does it look like?”

Baekhyun sticks out his lip. “I’m still cold.”

“Well, you can use the shower after me.” Baekhyun whines. Yixing emphatically locks the door. He faces himself in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. 

Yup, that’s an erection.

☼☼☼

Jongdae tries to keep his eyes on Junmyeon’s face. Face. _Face_. “The first thing you should know,” he explains, “is that learning to surf is going to be frustrating. It’s not going to happen in a day. It takes a lot of practice, so it’s best not to have high expectations.”

“Right,” says Junmyeon, eyes lingering on Jongdae’s wetsuit every time he turns away.

“The first couple of times, you shouldn’t even be thinking about big waves. You have to get used to the board and balancing and build the right strength first.”

“Right.”

“Are you listening, hyung?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m listening. Have you been doing chest presses or something?”

Jongdae shuffles on his feet. Maybe he flexes his pecs a little. Just a little, though. “Some. You been doing, uh. Squats?”

“Some.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways.”

“Surfing.”

“Right. Surfing.” Jongdae runs his fingers through his hair, distracted. “So. One of the first things you have to get good at is pop ups.”

“Pop ups.”

“Yeah. Pop ups. It’s when you get up on your board from lying down.”

“Right.”

Jongdae sets his surfboard in the sand. “So, you lie down on the board like this. Make sure you keep your legs together. Keep your head up a little, like this, so you can still see where you’re going. Put your hands under your chest and curl your toes up. Then you, like. Pop. Up.” Jongdae pushes himself up on the board in one fluid motion, pivoting his hips as he does so. “You want your feet kind of planted like this, so you have control of the board. Got it?”

“I think so. Pop up. Curl your toes. Control.”

“Practice it a few times, and do it in reverse, too.”

“Okay.” Junmyeon sets his board in the sand beside Jongdae’s and copies his friend’s movements as closely as he can.

“Knee under your chin. Good. Now back to prone.”

“Prone?”

“Oh. Lying down like you were before.”

Junmyeon wipes the sweat from his brow and lowers himself back onto the board. “ _Prone_.”

Jongdae’s eyes linger… places. “Yeah. Prone.” He makes Junmyeon practice it several more times. “You’re already pretty strong, so you’ve got a head-start there.”

“Guess those squats came in handy.”

Jongdae twinkles with tense laughter. “Guess so.”

“Now what?”

“Try paddling on your board for a bit. Then maybe you can try doing a pop up in the white water.”

Junmyeon carries his board out into the shallows and awkwardly scrambles back into prone position. Jongdae, who left his on the shore, gingerly touches Junmyeon’s lower back. “Legs together, remember. Use your core. Spread out your arms and just get used to the balance.” Once Junmyeon gets the hang of it, Jongdae teaches him how to paddle. It’s harder. “Keep your shoulders relaxed and your elbows down, hyung.” He keeps grazing Junmyeon’s arms with his wet fingers. He can smell his shampoo. It’s distracting.

Junmyeon feels he doesn’t make much progress despite Jongdae’s reassurances. When Junmyeon wears out and Jongdae starts not-so-subtly hinting that he’s getting hungry, they haul the surfboards back to the shed and return to their room to change.

“You did really good for your first time.”

“Thanks. You’re a good teacher. I owe you.”

“You sore?”

“A little. Shoulders.”

“I can rub them for you before you shower.” Without another word, Jongdae steps behind Junmyeon to gently unzip his wetsuit to the small of his back.

“Oh, I-” He can feel Jongdae’s breath on his bare neck, and he forgets why he’s protesting. When thumbs sink against his aching shoulders, he has to bite his lip to keep from sighing.

It’s an awkward position but Junmyeon can’t bring himself to suggest moving to the bed. His mind wanders. Having Jongdae straddle his ass and press his weight into Junmyeon’s ocean-slick muscles. Craning his neck to the side and having Jongdae brush his lips along the sensitive skin there. 

He clears his throat, face hot and chest tight. He’s usually better than this at censoring his thoughts, especially when they involve other men. Especially when they involve the finer details of his friend and colleague, Kim Jongdae.

When he looks over his shoulder, Jongdae’s eyes are warm and fond. “Better, hyung?”

“Better. Thanks.”

In the shower, Junmyeon has another pop up to deal with.

☼☼☼

The following day brings miserable weather, confining the boys to the house. Rain beats down relentlessly and the wind has leaves plastered the windows, and their concierge instructs them via email, because the phone lines are down, to stay away from the glass.

Some handle being housebound better than others. Baekhyun breaks the toaster oven in an attempt to keep himself amused. Several of them blatantly ignore the warning and press themselves up eagerly against the windows to watch the weather, which becomes more and more captivating the darker it gets. Nervous laughter follows startled yells when the first flash of lightning illuminates the dim living room.

As the night stretches on, Jongdae notices that someone’s missing, and pads quietly to his room.

Junmyeon is perched on his bed in the dark, wrapped securely in an enormous blanket. Wide eyes blink up at Jongdae. “Oh. Hello. Are you going to sleep? Where’s Minseok-hyung?”

“Still watching the storm with the others. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he says. Thunder cracks violently outside, and Junmyeon pulls the blanket tighter around his body. “N-no,” he says.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of thunderstorms,” Jongdae says gently, settling next to him.

“I’m not. I- I just don't like when the windows rattle.”

“All storms end sometime. It’ll be over before morning. You’ll get through it, hyung.”

“Can't you control lightning? Make it stop now.”

His laughter is barely audible over the deluge. “I would if I could.” He places what he hopes is a comforting hand on Junmyeon’s blanketed knee. “Hey, would earplugs help? I got some for Sehun at the airport.”

“I dunno,” Junmyeon says in a small, distant, hopeless voice.

“Here.” Jongdae hops off the bed to rummage in his backpack. He knocks on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Let me in.” He squirms his way into Junmyeon’s little fortress and, after locating it, slips the earplugs into his clammy fist. Junmyeon wordlessly puts them in.

Another boom of thunder rumbles outsides, and Junmyeon squeezes his eyes shut against Jongdae’s shoulder. “I c-can still feel the house shaking, Jongdae.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Jongdae holds his hand and combs his fingers soothingly through Junmyeon’s hair. He breathes in the scent of it, Junmyeon’s scent, warm and clean and sweet and spicy. 

Junmyeon shifts against him. “You have beautiful hair,” Jongdae says, because he knows he won't be heard.

Junmyeon begins to still under his petting, his breath evening, his head gradually drooping onto Jongdae’s shoulder. He shivers and whimpers when the thunder quakes the house, but he settles, and, within another half hour, is slumbering against Jongdae’s warm, broad chest. 

☼☼☼

When Junmyeon pulls out the earplugs and opens his eyes, Jongdae is setting a steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table. “Sorry for waking you,” he whispers. He’s still in the clothes he wore yesterday. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” He reaches out and brushes the other man’s fingers. “Hey. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Jongdae squeezes his hand. “When you’re ready, come eat. Minseok-hyung made breakfast.”

The grounds are a mess in the morning after their tussle with the storm, but there was no real damage done. Baekhyun takes it upon himself to collect all of the displaced flowers from the lawn.

“Did you tell him the gardeners would be in tomorrow?” Minseok asks Kyungsoo, sipping at his coffee from the window.

“No, I thought it’d be funnier this way.”

Baekhyun puts his bounty to use by placing the mussed flowers delicately in Yixing’s hair, arranging them in the saddest semblance of a crown the others have ever seen.

“Flower prince,” Baekhyun hums happily. Yixing keeps his face neutral.

☼☼☼

Someone, probably Chanyeol, has the inspired idea to play poker that night. Well, the original suggestion was _strip_ poker. There weren’t quite as many takers for that.

Kyungsoo proves to be quite the sharp, winning hand after hand with his carefully blank face. The others aren’t quite as talented. Yixing keeps rubbing the back of his neck - an obvious tell. Jongin is even worse.

“Wow, dude, you suck.”

“He’s trying to lose so he can call his girlfriend,” Sehun drawls. Jongin twirls his last chip guiltily.

Kyungsoo wins the hand again. Chanyeol groans into his hands. Jongin sneaks out of the room.

The bar within arm’s reach, the game starts to go downhill. When only a few tipsy boys are left at the table, Minseok begins to toss his chips every which way while chanting “eojjeona, I just hit the looootto.” Chanyeol mixes more margaritas to buffer his pain, lining up glasses on the bar and delicately adding to each of them a coloured drink umbrella. Baekhyun has, inexplicably, ended up with a pink one in his hair.

“You look so cute,” Yixing mumbles in his direction from the couch, eyelids drooping.

Baekhyun regards him from the floor where he’s lying on his tummy, happily kicking his feet. “Bù, bù, bù!” he protests, but he wears the umbrella for the rest of the evening.

Junmyeon and Sehun start freestyling even though there’s no music playing. Yixing is grabbing the ass of anyone within reach. Jongdae and Chanyeol can’t stop laughing, even know they don’t remember what was so funny in the first place.

All in all, one of EXO’s better parties.

☼☼☼

They’re drunk, but not as drunk as they’re pretending to be. The little pink umbrella tumbles to the floor as they plaster each other with messy, alcohol-laced kisses.

Baekhyun keeps nipping at Yixing’s full bottom lip. So plump and perfectly shaped. So soft, and sweet, and sexy. It’s been a long time coming, and his toothy instincts are getting the better of him.

“Baekhyunnie, you look so good. You look so good for me.”

Nip. “For you, hyung.”

“What am I going to do with you, all to myself?”

Baekhyun stumbles against him, knocking Yixing onto the bed, and pulls at the collar of his shirt. “Anything you want, hyung.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, hyung.”

“I want to watch you get off.”

“What, by myself?”

“Yeah.”

Baekhyun squirms, unsatisfied. “Anything you want.” He lifts his shirt away without another word, monitoring the calculated look in Yixing’s eyes. He wiggles out of his track pants, too.

“I noticed earlier you weren’t wearing anything under those,” Yixing says suddenly in a low, husky voice. “Putting yourself on display for someone, Baekhyun-ah?”

“I’m on vacation,” Baekhyun laughs. Now bare, he squats self-consciously down on his heels in front of Yixing. The room lurches a little. “How- how do you want me to…?”

Yixing’s mouth curls as he examines the treasure before him. Byun Baekhyun is something. Toned and curvy. His skin, smooth and decadent. His thighs are a fucking work of art; Yixing almost punctures his lip to keep from sinking his teeth into them. Between them, a very pretty dick indeed, hard and heavy and hot. Just for Yixing.

When Yixing doesn’t respond, Baekhyun begins without further instruction. Slow, hesitant, drink-drowsy, uncertain. He watches Yixing’s eyes follow his hand’s movements on his cock, his gaze occasionally flickering to the rest of him. He widens his eyes and pouts his lips coyly, cognizant of every flicker across Yixing’s face, carefully observing what each of his actions does to his spectator. Aside from a tilt of his head here, a blink there, Yixing is silent and still. So Baekhyun tosses his head. Plays at his own nipples. Leans back on one arm and arches his back. Whispers Yixing’s name. 

_Ah_. The elder’s lip lifts in a smirk, dimpling his perfect face. Baekhyun says it again.

Yixing rolls off of the bed. “Back in a second. Don’t stop.” Baekhyun, a little affronted at the loss of attention, can hear him rummaging in the ensuite. He returns, setting a little bottle beside Baekhyun’s leg before reclining back against the pillows and reassuming his position.

“Finger yourself,” he instructs.

“I- wh- okay.” He was going to do it anyway, but he keeps his mouth shut but for the little moans and gasps he lets escape for Yixing’s benefit. He lowers himself, ass in the air, and slicks his fingers with the lube helpfully provided for him. Eyes on his friend, he eases one inside of himself.

It’s a practiced movement, and Yixing notices. “Do this a lot, do you?” he murmurs, lazily trailing his fingertips across the bulge in his pants.

“Have to with you around all the time,” Baekhyun pants cheekily, dizzy with alcohol, exertion, and need. His eyes settle on Yixing’s tented crotch. “D-don’t you want to touch me yourself, hyung?” Yixing smiles at him but says nothing.

Baekhyun settles back onto his haunches, pressing another finger next to his first. He resumes stroking his cock. He rocks his hips gently.

He’s getting desperate. “Touch me, gege?”

Yixing just keeps smiling.

Baekhyun grows more annoyed, and more aroused. Why is he just sitting there? Baekhyun is quivering with need for Yixing’s hands, his lips, his tongue, anything but his long, amused looks. “ _Hyung_. Please touch me. Please.” Baekhyun is almost bouncing on his fingers, entreaties growing in their urgency as his other hand pumps his cock.

Yixing finally sits up and leans forward, his face but a few inches from Baekhyun’s.

“ _Yixing_ ,” Baekhyun whines.

“Yes,” says Yixing, and Baekhyun comes with a cry, spilling over his own bare body. He slumps into Yixing’s arms.

“Oh, Baekhyun-ah. So beautiful. Good job, baby.”

Baekhyun groans, teeth gritted with frustration and relief both. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Yixing chuckles, drawing a finger through the cum speckling Baekhyun’s chest. “Hmmm.”

“Yixing. Yixing-hyung.”

He swipes cum onto Baekhyun’s lip and kisses him languidly, swallowing it down with Baekhyun’s whimpers. He pulls at his earlobe with his teeth. “Mm. Ride me, Baekhyunnie?”

A shudder touches the younger, skin alight and sensitive. “Yes,” he says breathlessly. “Anything for you.”

“Undress me.”

His hands are shaking but determined as he pulls away garments from a very unhelpful Yixing. Baekhyun may be beautiful, but Yixing is flawless, and he feels twinge of intimidation that hums somewhere beyond his utter _need_ for this man when he looks upon his stunning body. He’ll have more time to admire later, he tells himself, but right now he badly needs Yixing’s dick, so he scrambles on top of him and coats it in lube before lowering himself down carefully against his prize. He’s never done this with another person before, but god, he’s thought about it, and with Zhang Yixing most of all. Always indulging his flirtations. Returning his touches. Maybe it’s because there’s always been something more than close friendship between them, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but this transition feels natural.

The sound that leaves him when he slides onto Yixing’s cock is breathy and euphoric. Yixing groans and lets his fingers sink into the soft flesh of Baekhyun’s thighs but for a moment. Then his arms are behind his head, leisurely, smug, and such that all the right muscles are emphasized in their most attractive manner.

Baekhyun mourns the loss of Yixing’s hands. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shh, Baekhyunnie. Ride me.”

With a petulant growl, Baekhyun rolls his hips. “Oh _god_ , fuck, oh, oh-” Yixing grins like a hungry wolf below him. “You look so- Yixing- better than I ever imagined-”

“Touch yourself,” Yixing murmurs. Baekhyun wants to cry but takes himself in hand for his hyung, anything for his hyung, and strokes his tender, already-swollen dick. Behind his head, Yixing’s fingers tangle in his own hair.

Baekhyun rolls and rocks and whimpers. “D-don’t you want-”

“Harder, my Baekhyunnie.” And so Baekhyun fucks him harder.

He’s flushed and damp with sweat by the time he musters enough belligerence to claw at Yixing’s chest with his spare hand. “Touch me! Touch me, you asshole!”

Yixing laughs, and Baekhyun comes a second time.

☼☼☼

Morning light filters in through the white curtains. One boy stirs, and the other peeks through his eyelids. “Mrrph. How are you?”

Baekhyun pouts into his pillow. “I’m sore. You were so _lazy_ last night.”

Yixing grins against the blankets, pulling him closer and inhaling the scent of his soft hair. “I’ll make it up to you sometime,” he promises.

☼☼☼

The house is quiet and dark but for the firefly glow of a box lamp and the flicker of a muted film. Two boys are sprawled sleepily on the couches.

“Why do you always have to look like you’re modelling?” Jongdae grumbles from within a nest of blankets.

“Hm?” Junmyeon looks up from his reclining posture and grins. “How else will I get you to pay attention to me?”

Jongdae wriggles into his cozy armour. “You have ways.”

“You gonna share those blankets?”

“Nah.”

“Tch. No manners whatsoever.”

“Says you with your feet up on the table.”

Junmyeon wiggles his toes teasingly. Maybe he spreads his legs just a little. Maybe he boyishly cocks one knee. “I’m on holiday. Bite me.”

Jongdae bares his teeth. “Grawr.”

The air between them is thick and electric and god, it would be so easy to melt against all of that gorgeous, warm skin. Junmyeon watches Jongdae’s eyes trail up the curve of his calves, his thighs, the appetizing junction of his leg and ass.

“My face is up here.”

Jongdae scowls, cheeks reddening, and he turns his attention back to the television. He doesn’t look back until Junmyeon’s fast asleep.

☼☼☼

Jongdae is emailing his mom when his phone buzzes.

New Message From: [bunny emoji]  
[19:23] come to the poolhouse

Sent Message:  
[19:23] why

New Message From: [bunny emoji]  
[19:24] food for you

Tension growing in his belly, Jongdae slips into his sandals and makes his way down the dark path to his destination, knocking twice before swinging the front door open.

The poolhouse is dim. Junmyeon’s leaning over a laden table in a freshly-pressed, buttoned top. His hair is swept back. “Ah!” He wipes his hands on his pants. “Uh. Hey.”

“Hey. Whoa. What is all this?”

“I owe you for giving me a surfing lesson. And. For the other thing. So I made you dinner.”

“ _You_ made dinner?”

“Well, I paid for it.”

“I’m touched.” 

“You’re welcome. So, ah.” Junmyeon gestures to the table, fragrant and brimming with fish, rice, and vegetables. “I think it’s good to go if you, ah. Want to tuck in. Oh! There’s wine. I have wine, too.”

Jongdae’s throat does feel dry. “Wine would be super. Thanks.”

They settle in, smoothing napkins over their laps, sipping nervously at their glasses, each of them pretending that this isn’t the dinner date it really feels like it is. The food is delicious, though, and Jongdae’s propensity for eating well eases the tension and they soon sink into familiarity. Just two friends having supper and chatting and not talking about the growing sexual energy between them. Casual.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” Junmyeon, sleepy-eyed and flushed with drink, plays with his sleeves. “Do...d’you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Okay,” Jongdae says cautiously. He wipes his brow while following a stumbling Junmyeon to the unfolded futon. The latter seems to forget about his pretext, as he makes no move to retrieve his laptop. Instead, he throws his arm around Jongdae’s shoulders. They turn to face each other, so close that their noses almost bump.

Jongdae flinches, swallows. “Oh. This is a bit, ah. Intimate.”

Junmyeon’s eyes drop in contemplation of Jongdae’s mouth. “Mm.”

“Hyung, I think you you drank too much.”

Junmyeon chews at his lip. “Hm.”

“Hyung.” A warning.

“Hey, you.” 

“ _Hyung_.”

Junmyeon releases a small, shaky breath. “Jongdae. Kiss me.”

He’s still but for the widening of his pupils. “I… don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Junmyeon’s fingertips graze the tip of Jongdae’s chin. “It’s not. Do it anyway.”

“We should maybe talk about this first, Junmyeon-hyung.”

He trails his fingertips down the fluttering vein in Jongdae’s neck, then brushes his shoulder, his bicep, the back of his hand. “I don’t want to talk right now. I want to kiss you. God, I want to kiss you so much.” His voice quiets to a whisper. “Please, Jongdae-ah.”

Jongdae pulls away. “I’m. Yeah. I’m gonna go.”

“What? No. Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon’s face contorts with pain. “Don’t leave like this.”

“I’m so sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t you dare fucking leave like this, Jongdae.”

“I’m sorry. I- it’s the right thing to do.”

“Fuck you.”

He hesitates. “Excuse me?”

“I said _fuck you_ , you complete asshole. You lead me on and you flirt and you make me feel like you want me back and then you leave. You coward. How fucking dare you.”

A stunned silence, then, “Me?” Jongdae looms over him. “Do you know how much damn bravery I had to collect to come here tonight? You scared me to death with this, this whole _display_ , Junmyeon. What were you thinking? We were going to have a nice meal and confess to each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms? We’re not two kids fooling around. There are consequences. Did you even think about that? We have to go back to our lives in a few days. What was supposed to happen then? You’re so fucking selfish.”

Junmyeon wipes his eyes with the back of one shaking hand. “Of course I thought about it. I’ve thought about it every single fucking day for months. It’s all I think about. You are all I think about.” 

“Shut up.”

“You. Are. All. I. Think about.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up.”

“You-” 

Jongdae steals the retort from Junmyeon’s mouth in a bruising semblance of a kiss. Junmyeon gasps against his assailing lips, grabbing handfuls of Jongdae’s shirt when he’s pinned roughly to the mattress by the younger man. 

“Jongd-dae-”

He tugs Junmyeon by the hair to expose his neck and sucks at it with vindictive zeal. “What?” he growls. “You want this? Is this what you fucking want?”

Junmyeon’s heart is racing and his crotch is throbbing. “God, I- Jongdae-”

The eyes above him are are dark and fierce and hot. He seizes Junmyeon’s shirt, and when it lies crumpled next to the futon, Jongdae curls his fingers back into his hair and kisses him deep, deliciously. He drinks from him like a dying man from an oasis, panting and moaning in turn as Junmyeon becomes increasingly limbless beneath him. Jongdae surfaces to doff his own clothes. Bare, and unashamedly hard, he unclasps and unbuttons and tugs away the rest of Junmyeon’s garments, too. Junmyeon is dizzy and hot and, when his friend plants his palms on either side of his head and presses him by the hips to the mattress, immeasurably turned on. Their dicks slide against each other. They grit their teeth.

“Fuck, I’m going to fill you up so good. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up good and dirty, hyung?”

Oh god. Oh _god_. “Y-yes.”

Jongdae tugs a fistful of his hair. “Say it louder.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Yes _what_?”

“Please. Please. Fuck, please.”

“Lube,” Jongdae clips. Junmyeon gestures weakly to the endtable, and Jongdae roughly pulls open the drawer. Objective in hand, he sneers. “Knew you would have prepared, hyung. Think I’d be desperate for you, hyung? Think you’re hot shit?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon gasps mindlessly, bucking, urgently seeking contact.

“Turn over.” Junmyeon hurries to obey, jolting when a fingertip, cold with lube, dips into his asshole. “God, I want to fuck you so good.” Jongdae’s voice breaks, tenderness trickling through, before he recollects himself, pushing his finger deeper while steadying Junmyeon’s twisting body with his free hand. “Fuck the arrogance outta you, hyung.”

It’s the hottest thing Junmyeon’s ever heard. “P-please.” He claws the sheets as he’s stroked and stretched open, rubbing his pelvis against the bed because his dick is agonizingly hard and sensitive. When Jongdae sweeps his slick erection against his hole, he has to bite down on the pillow.

Without ceremony, Jongdae buries himself in Junmyeon’s ass and they moan together, high and helpless. He presses Junmyeon down while the latter curses through the adjustment, pain ebbing gradually away in favour of pleasure that blossoms violently within his blood. He never knew how good it would feel to have a dick up his ass, have Jongdae’s dick up his ass. Every thrust brings him a fresh thrill of euphoria that adds to the building tension in his crotch.

“You have to be careful - what - you - wish - for,” Jongdae grunts above him, emphasizing each word with a snap of his hips. “How many times did you get off to the thought of this?” Junmyeon’s cock is hot and dripping, dampening the sheets below him. “Or did you imagine I’d lay back for you like a good boy? Huh? Did you want me to be your good boy, hyung?” Junmyeon whimpers incomprehensibly. Jongdae positions himself higher angling himself deeper and harder inside of the man beneath him, prodding the sweet spot that has Junmyeon’s limbs trembling and stars appearing beneath his eyelids. “Oh _fuck_ ,” one of them says, though he’s not sure which; his sensory input is such a mess of ecstasy that Junmyeon’s not even sure who he is.

Jongdae comes first, stuttering thrusts punctuated by the unrestrained cries of their owner. Junmyeon pushes back against him, desperate for more, practically sobbing with relief when a merciful palm wraps his cock and pumps him to completion.

Jongdae pulls out and rolls Junmyeon with him to the side of the futon that isn’t soaked in sweat and cum. Once their panting slows, their lips meet sweetly, passionately, languid. The kiss that should have been their first. 

“Fuck,” Jongdae says breathlessly between kisses. “Hyung. I’m sorry for what I said.” 

“I’m sorry too. Oh, I’m so sorry, Jongdae. I l-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-ove you so much.”

“You sap.”

Junmyeon hides in the crook of Jongdae’s neck. “We all have our flaws.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know.”

They lie there for some time, fingers entwined. Basking. Reliving. Contemplating. Worrying. 

“What now?” Jongdae asks quietly.

“We sleep. Tomorrow we can talk about the _what nows_.”

“Or I’ll just build us a hot air balloon to fly away in.”

“You’re full of hidden skills, aren’t you?”

Jongdae laughs sleepily. “Just wait, hyung.”

Junmyeon smiles and lets his eyelids fall shut. The sheets smell of sex. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and kisses Jongdae’s brow.

☼☼☼

Baekhyun persuades a mysteriously reluctant Junmyeon to go back to civilization with him the next day because first of all, he wants souvenirs, and secondly, because Junmyeon is the one with the limitless credit card.

It’s a boat, bus, and a prop plane back to Nadi. There isn’t a lot in the way of shopping, but what they do find ostensibly caters to tourists. They peruse a few kiosks. They buy sodas. Eventually, they happen upon a linen-covered table supporting the tackiest jewelry they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Baekhyun holds up one of the seashell necklaces. “Do you think Yixing-hyung would like this?”

“Oh, Christ. These are horrible. We have to get them.”

After their purchases, Junmyeon visits the bathroom in the nearby convenience store and Baekhyun clandestinely buys a pack of condoms. And a candy bar. While Baekhyun is buying condoms, Junmyeon is shoving coins into the condom dispenser in the bathroom. Laden with bags full of gifts and sex supplies, they return to their villa with the intention of putting them to good use.

☼☼☼

Junmyeon and Jongdae haven’t had much time to talk since the previous night, and they face each other in the living room, where the others are snacking and watching television, with shy grins. Yixing watches them with interest until Baekhyun distracts him with his gift, which turns out to be the ugliest rope of shells ever created, probably. He spots Jongdae behind Baekhyun, who has an identical expression of disgust, holding an identical necklace. Junmyeon is laughing into his hands.

“Wow. I love it.” (“I hate it,” Jongdae says beyond Baekhyun.)

“Really?” Baekhyun preens. (“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Jongdae says.)

“Yes.” (“Yes,” Junmyeon agrees.)

After the others have gone to bed, Jongdae and Yixing stay up, sitting quietly at the bar. Jongdae slides a drink across the counter into Yixing’s palm. He sips. “Ahh.”

Yixing is about to voice his suspicions when Jongdae spots the necklace in his fist. “Where did you-” Jongdae meets his eyes. “Baekhyun gave you this?”

“Yeah. Sorry, but I think the whole thing was Baekhyun’s idea.”

Jongdae pulls out his own necklace. “You’re giving Junmyeon-hyung too much credit.”

Yixing laughs and drains his cup. “Probably.”

“Good lord. What are we supposed to do with these?”

Yixing slides his empty glass back. “I think we both know what we have to do.”

☼☼☼

They stand on the dock at dawn. Solemn, Jongdae bows his head.

Yixing raises his arms to the sky. “O foul adornment,” he proclaims in Mandarin, “Return from whence ye came. Find your grave amongst the denizens of the deep, O cursèd thing, begone and be still forevermore. May your hideous image never again plague the eyes of man.”

They throw the seashell necklaces into the ocean.

☼☼☼

Junmyeon and Jongdae mosey along the shore, barefoot, fingers brushing fingers.

“I can’t believe you tried to seduce me with dinner. You know your audience, hyung, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thanks. What about you, though? I have to say, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I had it in _you_ , as I recall.”

“Oh my god, Jongdae.”

Jongdae shrugs, grinning wide. “Well. I did. But if you want a repeat performance, hyung, you’ll probably have to piss me off again.”

“Okay. You’re whiny and loud.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Dammit. I tried.”

“Sorry.”

A seagull squawks overhead. The waves whisper on the shore. The dusk-pink clouds sparkle in the reflection of the water.

“So,” says Junmyeon after a little while, shoving his hands sheepishly into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I guess I’ll have to give it a shot, then.”

“Huh? Give what a shot?”

“Doing. You know. You.”

Jongdae represses a smile, his cheeks glowing. “I guess so.” 

Junmyeon snakes his arm around his companion’s firm waist. “Be my good boy, Jongdae-ah?”

He squirms. “Stop that, or I’ll have to have you right here. And I don’t want sand up my ass.”

“I wasn’t suggesting sand.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

They take a few more steps before Jongdae has to stop altogether. “You made me horny,” he whines, sticking out his lip. Junmyeon lights up, grinning when Jongdae shoves him. “You gonna do something about that? Huh?”

“Maybe.” Junmyeon grabs his hand and leads him to the edge of the woods that frame the beach, tiptoeing over rocks and broken branches “Careful. Watch your feet.”

Once they’re a respectable distance into the trees, Jongdae clears his throat. “We don’t have any, uh. Personal lubricant product.”

“We’ll have to improvise, then, won’t we?”

“If you spread slug slime on my asshole, I’ll be really upset with you.”

“Hush.” Junmyeon stops beside a large tree, tall enough that its branches are lost in the crowd of the canopy. “Pass me your shirt, babe?”

Jongdae pulls it off and hands it to him. “Did you just _babe_ me?”

“I thought I’d try. Sorry.”

“S’okay. It was cute.”

Junmyeon folds Jongdae’s shirt on the ground and kneels. “I don’t want to scrape up my knees,” he explains self-consciously.

Jongdae shakes with laughter, rapidly stilling when Junmyeon unties his shorts from behind and tugs them to his ankles. “Oh.”

“Are you okay with this?” Junmyeon murmurs, brushing his hands over Jongdae’s hips, thighs, ass, swollen dick. 

“Yes,” is Jongdae’s emphatic response.

Junmyeon smiles fondly and smooches his bum before gently spreading Jongdae’s cheeks. He contemplates his asshole.

Jongdae whines, placing his palms against the trunk of the tree to stable himself. “Hyung. What are you waiting for?”

Junmyeon deigns not to respond, instead giving him a tentative little kitten lick. Jongdae twitches and makes a tiny helpless noise in the back of his throat.

“Good?”

“Very good, yes please, good good good.”

Junmyeon licks again, slower and deeper, then traces Jongdae’s clenching rim with the lithe tapered tip of his tongue. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and his jaw soon starts to ache, but Junmyeon eventually loses himself in the rhythm of eating out Kim Jongdae like this is the last meal he’ll ever have.

“Need you,” Jongdae rasps before long.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure enough that I’m reconsidering the slug slime.”

“God.” Junmyeon rises, pumping Jongdae’s leaking cock with one hand while tracing his mouth with the fingers of the other. “Suck,” he instructs.

Jongdae’s lips part eagerly and he complies, moaning around digits that Junmyeon presses deeper into his mouth. When Jongdae gags, Junmyeon removes them favour of his ass. He eases the first inside, saliva-slick and slow, to the sound of Jongdae’s gasps.

“Good, sweet thing. You’re so good, Jongdae-ah.”

“Ahh, f-fuck.”

Junmyeon nibbles at his shoulder, alternatively fondling his chest, his abs, his dick while Jongdae adjusts. He slips in another finger, twisting, crooking. “Love. Are you doing okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Just go slow, hyung.”

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Yeah.”

But Jongdae starts wiggling back against Junmyeon’s fingers, seeking more, supporting himself against the tree with his forearms, bending, arching his muscled back with escalating moans.

“Fuck me. Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.”

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

Jongdae slams a fist against the tree. “ _Fuck me_.”

Junmyeon hums with amusement against his neck. He spits generously onto his palm to wet his cock, steadying Jongdae’s eager hips. “Patience,” he murmurs fondly, but he’s aching with the anticipation of being buried inside of him, too.

The first pushes are agonizingly slow, Jongdae biting his lip and groaning through the pain. They haven’t prepared enough but Jongdae is rocking so insistently against Junmyeon’s dick that he can’t help but press deeper, deeper.

“Oh _fuck_ , Jongdae. Shit. I love you. I love your ass. Fuck.”

Jongdae’s body flexes and writhes in response to each of Junmyeon’s minute movements, his voice cracking, his neck mottled with need. “God, fuck, I love this, I love this, I love this,” he gasps, blunt fingernails chipping the bark from the tree. His whines grow hoarse and his arms start to shake. “K-keep fucking me,” he growls when Junmyeon makes to ease off a little. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, don’t stop, _oh_ , don’t stop.” And so Kim Junmyeon dutifully fucks him against a tree in the underbrush in Fiji.

☼☼☼

“Footprints,” Baekhyun murmurs, pointing with the hand that isn’t wrapped possessively around one of Yixing’s fingers. “Look, they go into the trees.”

Yixing suspects at a glance to whom they belong. “Ah. Hey, look, is that a whale out there?”

Baekhyun tilts his head, unphased, releasing Yixing to peer into the darkening woods. “Wah.”

“Baekhyun-ah! No.”

“Who is it? Do you think they found a banana tree?”

“A banana t- Baekhyun-ah, come on. Let’s go.”

“Why, are you scared?”

“Yeah. Legend has it these woods are cursed. Come on.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widen for a moment, then narrow. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not. You are.”

Baekhyun marches defiantly into the cursed bushes. Yixing scrambles after him.

“Shit. Baekhyun-”

They clamber closer to the now-perceptible tenor of men’s voices. Baekhyun freezes so abruptly that Yixing topples into him. Baekhyun peeks up from the tangle of limbs and branches.

“Doesn’t that sound like- oh my god,” Baekhyun breathes. Then he sees them. “Oh my god! That’s J-” 

Yixing claps his hand over Baekhyun’s mouth, which proves to be misguided. Baekhyun flails and tries to bite him. Yixing picks him up with one arm, still muffling his protests with the other. Baekhyun kicks his legs. “Shh!” the elder hisses, dragging him through the brush and back to the beach as quietly as he can manage.

“Oh my god! They’re screwing!”

“Yeah, I know. Be quiet!”

“You _know_?” Baekhyun screeches, startling several birds out of a nearby tree.

Yixing spins him and clasps him by the shoulders. “Byun Baekhyun. _Shh_.”

Baekhyun glares at him and takes an enormous, ominous breath. Yixing muzzles him again. Baekhyun struggles again. The sky is dark and they’re both covered in sand, mud, and scratches by the time they reach the poolhouse. 

“I can’t believe. Wow. Our innocent leader. Oh, look.” Baekhyun points back down the beach. Two tiny silhouettes are making their way closer.

Yixing looks at him sternly. “Don’t say anything to them.”

“What? We have to. This is like, huge.”

“Is it? We slept together, too.”

“Oh yeah. Mm. That was great.”

“Focus.”

Baekhyun hops restlessly. “So, what? We’re going to pretend we don’t know?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Baekhyun pouts. He brushes past him. “I wanna go talk to them.”

Yixing grabs him by the arm and hauls him along, wincing when Baekhyun’s yelp echoes across the sand. He drops him unceremoniously on the grass behind the poolhouse. “ _Ow_. Hey.” Baekhyun catches the glint in his eye. “Are you really that angry about this?” He cackles. “What, you gonna punish me? Gonna punish me, gege?”

“Quiet.” Yixing pulls off his tank and from it tears a long strip of fabric with his teeth. 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen. “What are you-”

Yixing eases the fabric between Baekhyun’s teeth, securing it in a dainty bow behind his head. “Quiet.”

Well, Baekhyun’s dick springs right up.

They can hear the faint sound of Jongdae and Junmyeon speaking in the distance. Yixing presses his body down against Baekhyun’s, his lips grazing the younger’s ear. “If you make a sound, I stop.” Baekhyun whimpers. Yixing’s eyes go flat, and he lifts himself away. Baekhyun shakes his head and bites down on the shirt to indicate he’ll behave. For now, at least.

Yixing smiles approvingly and undresses Baekhyun before kicking off his own sweatpants. With the long fingers of one hand, he grips Baekhyun’s ankles and lifts them above his head to survey his quarry, bare and gagged and needy below him. Yixing licks a finger and drags it along the cleft of Baekhyun’s ass. Baekhyun’s fingers sink into the grass. He presses Baekhyun’s legs closer to his chest, then spreads them, testing his flexibility, silent, calculating. Jongdae’s laughter rings closer. Baekhyun trembles.

One hand still binding Baekhyun’s ankles, Yixing rummages in the pocket of his abandoned sweatpants for his wallet, which he flicks open. Baekhyun tries to sits up to look, but he’s shoved effortlessly back against the grass. When Yixing turns back to him, he’s tearing open what Baekhyun discerns is a little sample pocket of lube with his teeth.

 _Always planning ahead_ , Baekhyun wants to say. Or something saucier, probably. But there’s a shirt stifling his words and, remembering Yixing’s instructions, he’s glad for it. Baekhyun is a loud boy, and needs the extra reminder to be quiet.

And it _is_ quiet. Eerily quiet. Yixing doesn’t make a sound as he slicks his fingers and dick. They can hear footsteps on the path leading up to the poolhouse. The moonlight illuminates Yixing’s crooked grin before he plunges his fingers into Baekhyun’s exposed ass.

He jerks with surprise, and pleasure, and no small measure of discomfort. He squeaks around the cloth in his teeth, which he bitterly knows Yixing probably wanted, and the fingers are abruptly pulled out. He throws his head back against the grass. His nerves are chafing. It might be a long night.

“-sleeping? We both need to-” he hears Junmyeon say close by, but he doesn’t register the words. Yixing rewards his silence by replacing one of his fingers and thrusting gently. He’s starting to lose blood flow to his feet, which are still elevated in Yixing’s grasp. He squirms, earning a warning glance.

His jaw aches against the cloth as Yixing begins to stretch him open, slowly, achingly. His eyes are watering with the pleasure of it, the agony of his contorted posture, and with the sheer frustration of not being able to quip or coax or moan. He tries to focus on taking steady, measured breaths until Yixing notices he’s getting too comfortable and decides to stroke his prostate. 

He jolts and shudders, little pinpricks of sensation returning to his legs as Yixing lowers them maliciously, mercifully. Baekhyun hardly has time to collect himself because the fingers in his ass are being replaced by the tip of Yixing’s cock, and Yixing’s cock is really fucking good. Yixing presses deep and smiles into Baekhyun’s neck, tracing the shape of his arching back with one supportive hand. His arms cage the smaller body beneath him and Baekhyun feels a warm wash of security fall over him, a certainty that he’s safe with his hyung, that his hyung is protecting him, taking care of him. 

Baekhyun is too wound up, too close, _so_ close, dizzy with arousal and affection for the man eagerly plowing him. The brush of Yixing’s abdomen against his cock is enough to have him spilling violently over the both of them. His cries are muffled by the shirt, but he can’t muster enough of his mind to remember or to care why he had to be silent in the first place. He lays there, blissed out and dripping, until Yixing’s hips stutter and he becomes a gorgeous, gasping mess above him.

The makeshift gag is lifted away. Baekhyun sucks in the night air while Yixing massages blood back into his legs. 

“Wow. That was. Wow.”

Yixing cups his face and kisses him sweetly. “Mm. It was. What do you say?”

“Thank-you-oh-benevolent-Yixing-hyung-for-showing-me-mercy?”

That earns him another kiss. “You are welcome.” They return, giggling, to the house and to their beds, where Yixing rubs away the rest of Baekhyun’s aches.

☼☼☼

Inside the dark poolhouse, someone stirs.

Big drowsy eyes reflect the glare of the alarm clock. “Ngh. Did you hear something?”

Sehun is smiling up at the ceiling. “No. Go back to sleep, hyung.”

☼☼☼

Jongdae hobbles into the kitchen. Perches gingerly on a stool. Winces.

Baekhyun squints at him from across the table, mumbling around a mouthful of cocoa puffs. “What happened there, Jongdae?”

Jongdae squints back. “Nothing. Slept funny.”

“Hmm.”

“Mm.”

Baekhyun gestures with his spoon. “So. What’d you do last night?”

“Went out walking on the beach.”

“Alone? Hmm?”

“No. With Junmyeon-hyung.”

“Oh? Interesting that we didn’t see you.”

Squint. “We?”

“Me. And Yixing-hyung.”

“Yes. Interesting that we never crossed paths.”

Squint. “Very interesting.”

“Hm.”

Bless them for trying.

☼☼☼

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to do with you.”

They’re sitting in a secluded spot on the verandah. Baekhyun’s hair ruffles in the breeze. “Since… since we started. Um. Doing stuff?”

Yixing traces the rim of his glass with one finger. “Um. Yeah.” The glass hums. “And like, before that.”

“You wanted to do stuff with me for a long time,” Baekhyun affirms, pleased.

Yixing’s nostrils flare. “So? You wanted to do stuff with me, too.”

“Well, have you _seen_ you?”

“Ah. Pshh.”

After a precarious silence, Baekhyun starts nibbling on a fingernail. His voice is low, quiet, apprehensive. “Hyung. What are we?”

Yixing rubs his neck. “I don’t know. Friends. Friends who fuck sometimes? Why do we have to decide right now?”

Baekhyun takes one of Yixing’s hands in his and plays gently with his fingers. “I like you more than a friend, gege.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.”

“So.”

“So.” Baekhyun tilts his head and smiles in his disarming way.

“So. What, you want to be. Ah.” Red blossoms on Yixing’s cheeks, and he clears his throat. “Friends who are exclusive?”

“You know.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yixing-hyung.”

“Byun Baekhyun-ah.”

“I want to be…” He takes a breath. “Nam...chin...deul,” he murmurs, punctuating each syllable with a kiss to Yixing’s nose, cheek, lips.

Yixing looks down at his lap, a little laugh spilling from him. 

Baekhyun peers up at him, bright, coquettish. “Be my boyfriend, okay?”

It wouldn’t be right, Yixing knows. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be the relationship either of them deserve. But it’s Baekhyun, and Baekhyun is everything he wants.

“Okay,” Yixing agrees.

☼☼☼

Their days in paradise are coming to an end, and Jongdae wants to take advantage of the little time - and privacy - they have left. That’s why he insisted he and Junmyeon be naked.

“You’re beautiful,” he’s saying. “You know you’re beautiful. People always tell you you’re beautiful. But I don’t think you really know just _how_ fucking gorgeous you are.” Jongdae lowers his lips to Junmyeon’s, melting against the hot breath of his elder. “Your lips are so soft. They’re so soft and warm. God.” Junmyeon preens.

“Your hair,” Jongdae hums, carding his fingers through it reverently. “So thick and silky. You kill me whenever you push it back.” Jongdae does so. “You have the prettiest forehead.” Jongdae’s fingertips miss nothing, brushing over Junmyeon’s brows, his eyelids, his jawbone, his pink-flushed cheeks. “Your cheeks are so cute. So smoochable.” He smooches them. “So pretty, hyung. So handsome. Turn over so I can see the rest of you.” Junmyeon obliges. 

“Mm.” Jongdae’s voice is only a deep kitten’s purr in the back of his throat. “Your ass. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you in that fucking wetsuit. Holy shit, when I unzipped you? I can’t believe I stopped. I can’t believe I didn’t whip that thing off of you and have you right there. You’re so sexy. You’re perfect.” He presses his stiff length along the cleft of Junmyeon’s ass, and their breaths stutter. “Perfect.” He rubs at the small of his back. “Your waist. It’s so damn slim and pretty.”

Junmyeon pouts into the pillows. “Go back.”

Jongdae’s laugh is husky, pleased. “Oh? You want me to fuck you, hyung?” He trails his fingers down Junmyeon’s spine and teases at his asshole. Junmyeon squirms. “I’d rather you had me, really. God, but I’d love to see you. Love to see your face when you come inside me.” A tremble touches his voice. “Want to see you lose it and know that I’m the reason for it. Want to see you wanting me.” He strokes the nape of Junmyeon’s neck, and Junmyeon shudders. 

“I do want you,” Junmyeon says, curling his fingers into the sheets and pushing himself up so he can sneak between Jongdae’s legs and shove him down against the bed. He takes his time because he can, tongue then fingers and finally cock, hitching Jongdae’s legs up to kiss him deeper, fuck him deeper, and to better meet his heady, desperate gaze. 

They’re mid-fuck when the bedroom door opens. A set of feline eyes settles on the scene before them, Junmyeon hilt-deep up Jongdae’s ass.

“ _Oh_ ,” Minseok rasps, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” He sucks in a shaking breath. “Jesus. Okay.” He clears his throat. “Finally.” His eyes linger on the pair of them. “Jesus.” They linger a little longer. “Okay. Yeah.” Then he licks his lips, turns, and shuts the door quietly behind him.

Jongdae breaks their horrified silence. “ _Finally?_ ” 

“Later. We’ll talk to him later,” Junmyeon chokes.

They nervously resume their fucking, too wound up to stop for Minseok’s sake. The romance has dissipated, but they thrust against each other with renewed frenzy, thoughts bright and racing. At last, Jongdae timidly voices what they’ve both been thinking. “Do you think he w- ah- wanted to stay and- fuck- watch?” 

Junmyeon’s lips part to respond only with the wracking cries of a really damn good orgasm.

☼☼☼

Packing is bittersweet.

“Why do we have to go home so soon?”

“Well, you know what they say. Life’s a beach.”

“For fuckssakes.”

Baekhyun and Yixing are the last to be ready with their luggage, the former flushed and in need of a comb and the latter looking far too smug for his own good. They do a final sweep of the house for forgotten belongings, Chanyeol hastily shoves what remains of the complementary toiletries into his suitcase, and they say their goodbyes to Fiji.

Boat, shuttle, plane, then another plane. Jongdae falls asleep on Junmyeon’s shoulder again. Junmyeon doesn’t even wake him up when he starts drooling. To his left, Minseok leans in to whisper something in his ear. Junmyeon chokes on his spritzer.

When the seatbelt sign goes off, Yixing slips his laptop away. “I have to use the washroom,” he says meaningfully to his neighbour, and abruptly gets up from his seat. Baekhyun looks down the aisle. Baekhyun looks up the aisle. Baekhyun drums his fingers on the armrest and decides that he, too, has to use the washroom.

Nine boys. Nine hours and fifty-five minutes to go.


End file.
